


One More Try

by dollylux



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Closeted Character, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-05-20
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lessons come in all forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The commitment came when he actually bought a messenger bag. It wasn't anything very special; it was leather and sturdy with a long strap and it would hold a notebook and textbooks and pencils and pens and his laptop and maybe a smuggled pack of cigarettes that he could dip into on his way home and pray his wife wouldn't detect the scent on his breath. The actual thought that he would be returning to school terrified Iker to the very marrow of his bones, but after having gone through the painful enrollment process and orientation, he couldn't turn back now. And so he'd gone sleepless the night before, sat like a zombie with his son and daughter at breakfast that morning, envious of the carefree way they scampered off to school. Admittedly, he just wanted to become an English teacher. But at his age, it truly was like starting over. And he'd always had a bit of a masochistic side.

Modern poetry didn't sound too bad as a first class. He'd written poems before anyway, he muses as he walks through the mostly empty hallway, head down, afraid to reveal the soft wrinkles around his eyes, any grey hairs that were starting to appear around his temple. He'd written poems for girls in high school, for those first two years of college before he'd dropped out to get a job after Elena had gotten pregnant. He'd gotten into many beds that way, with silken words and naughty, descriptive verses. He almost smiles to himself as he neared the door to the classroom (he'd visited the school the day before and found the room of each of his classes, just in case), reaching up to smooth out the lapel of his button-down shirt (new, washed, ironed), worrying to himself if his jeans are too stiff-looking, if he just looks too damn old. He ducks into class, hand clutching the strap of his bag and he settles down in a seat nearby, in the front row and busies himself immediately with rifling through his bag, not wanting to make friends, to have cute conversations with twenty-somethings. He's hear to learn and then go home to his family. That's it.

A laugh breaks through the murmurs in the half-filled room and Iker glances up out of curiosity, wondering at the brevity of person who is so at ease on the first day. A long body strides out of the office at the far end of the room, sturdy but lean legs carrying it dangerously closer to Iker. A girl is smiling up at the owner of the body dreamily, two pretentiously small books of poetry in her pale grasp. Iker gives her an unimpressed onceover before turning his attention once again to the man who he assumes is the professor and that's where his eyes (mind, heart, life, world) stop. The aforementioned legs are covered by painstakingly aged denim, jeans that clutch and lick and cling to all the right (perfect) curves, that flair just the smallest bit at the bottom and that are too comfortable to be finished off with a belt. He's wearing an almost identical shirt to Iker's but he's wearing it so much better, in Iker's estimation because it looks soft, it looks effortless, it looks sexy and unbuttoned and rolled sleeved and relaxed. The man dismisses the girl with a small, guarded smile and turns his attention to his growing class and his eyes land on Iker and at that second, Iker knows how ridiculous he must look, a (practically) middle-aged man in a freshman poetry course, everything about him screaming that he's trying too hard, that he's married, that he's desperate maybe for a new life, for an escape. He tries to smile but fails miserably under the radiance of the one he receives in return.

"Hello. I'm Professor Ramos. You can call me Sergio though." The man offers Iker his hand and his smile is a little more friendly, a little more interested than it had been moments before with the blonde. Iker can tell he's not a day older than twenty-six. Iker takes his hand and shakes it firmly, recalling distractedly that he'd always been told that he has a good handshake. He nods as his mind flies with the desire to reply, to say something to this man who is decidedly beautiful, who is exotic and strange and exciting, who looks unlike anyone he'd ever seen before with those paintbrush stroked eyes that widen and curve gracefully down, that are shadowed by ink-black eyelashes and with irises that are brighter than the cliché chocolate but deeper than any amber. Iker finds himself trying to recall all of the crayons in Tabby's Crayola box when he's brought back to reality by that same husked laugh. "Have you wandered into the wrong classroom? You wouldn't be the first, I promise."

"No. Ah." Iker gives him his best smile, his most charming one as an apology. He realizes vaguely that their hands are still clasped together. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me. I'm Iker. Casillas."

Sergio's smile broadens again and he releases Iker's hand and presses both of his own into his front pockets, unknowingly (well, perhaps) drawing attention to his crotch. He cocks his hip and blatantly looks Iker over, not even blinking as a thick strand of hair fell from his loose, messy ponytail to curl around one high cheekbone.

"Hm. This semester might be more interesting than I thought."


	2. Chapter 2

Class had been mostly just a preview of the semester and a small discussion about the poets they would be covering. Iker had stayed quiet, had studiously taken notes and had replied to Sergio's warm smiles with sheepish ones of his own. He worries over what Sergio must think of him as he gathers his notebook and his syllabus, worries that he thinks he's an idiot with no original thoughts in his old man head. He takes a deep breath that does nothing to ease the tightness in his chest, shaking his head a little to himself. He shoves his belongings into his bag, clicking his pen three times before dropping it in as well.

"That's a tick, isn't it?"

Iker's head snaps up so hard it hurts his neck and his skin immediately pinks. He blinks at Sergio once, twice.

"Huh?"

"The way you click your pen three times. You did it constantly during class. Always in threes." Sergio doesn't seem annoyed at all, nor does he seem to be teasing. Just an observation. Iker looks down at the offending pen in his bag and frowns.

"I guess I do."

"Are you always going to be so quiet during class?"

Iker sucks in another long breath and fumbles to buckle his bag closed. Sergio watches him with a quiet smile.

"No. No, I'm sorry. This is a little weird for me. I haven't stepped foot in a classroom since you were probably in diapers. Nobody's wearing Motley Crue shirts so I'm a little lost." He glances up at Sergio with an apologetic smile and unfolds his long body out of his chair. Sergio bursts out laughing, flashing him a grin that makes Iker's shoulders less tense for the first time all day.

"You're not that old."

Iker shoves his bag up onto his shoulder and smirks. Sergio smiles even more and Iker gets a familiar feeling in the back of his mind (flirting, he's flirting with me).

"How old do you think I am?"

Sergio's mouth twitches and he folds his arms over his broad chest, his eyes sparkling almost mischievously.

"Not a day over forty-five."

It's Iker's turn to give a surprised laugh and he reaches over to shove Sergio's shoulder which does nothing to move him or get rid of the grin on his face.

"Asshole."

"You wanna go get a drink?"

Iker chews on the inside of his cheek and glances down at his watch, trying to remember his commitments for the day, what time Bradley had soccer practice, what time Elena wanted him home for dinner. He hears Sergio draw a breath to tell Iker that it's okay, we can do it some other time, I know you probably have plans, a life, something do to besides go drink with your new professor in the middle of the day.

"That'd be great."

When Sergio smiles this time, it's laced through with relief.

 

\--

 

"Scotch, please. Straight."

Sergio looks over for that, shifting on the bar stool to face Iker a little.

"Scotch, really? This early?"

Iker starts to frown, self-doubt streaking his features and Sergio laughs and laughs. He turns to the bartender, his smile not fading.

"Stella Artois, please." He turns his attention back to Iker when the bartender disappears, elbows propped up on the bar, hands tangling at his cheek. He watches Iker's eyes as they drift above his head to the television showing highlights from basketball games the night before. "So how old are you?"

Iker looks back down immediately, the averting of his eyes obvious obedience trained into him by a wife that ruled the house. He replays Sergio's question in his head and his eyes are playful once again.

"You first."

"Twenty-six."

Iker's eyes light up.

"I _knew_ it."

Sergio curls his lips to sip at the green bottle that's placed in front of him. Iker looks at his glass of scotch and realizes that he's more hungry than anything. He watches Sergio swallow his beer and admires his grace, the fluidity in his every move. He fidgets with his glass, taps his fingers on the bar, small, nervous motions that he's had his whole life. Sergio seems serene as he watches him back.

"Your turn."

Iker sighs, such a long-suffering sigh. His shoulders slump and he turns those intense eyes back to the television.

"Thirty-nine."

Sergio raises his eyebrows, impressed. Iker flicks his eyes down at him self-consciously and is surprised by Sergio's expression, by how it's not completely revolted.

"You look damn good for your age. Damn good."

Iker smiles, charmed, reaching up to swipe at the top of his own head, to push at the hair that would forever look like he had just woken up and ran out of the house. His wife considers it one of his charms.

"It's all those years of just doing what my wife tells me to do. Keeps me from having to think. Thinking'll take away years of your life." He raises his glass in a mini-salute before taking a healthy drink, his expressive eyebrows quirked together. "Scientific fact."

Sergio keeps watching him, his expression unreadable but open, inviting. The heel of his hand is digging into one cheek and he looks like he doesn't have a place in the world to be.

"Well, I guess as a teacher, I'm hopelessly doomed then, aren't I? With all the thinking I have to do all the time."

"Doesn't your wife think for you, too?"

Sergio's mouth curls into more of a smirk than a smile. The small tink-tink-tink of his smooth nails clinking on his bottle makes Iker glance down with a triumphant smile. (Three.)

"Oh, I'm not married."

"Girlfriend?"

"No."

Something in Sergio's tone, in the inflection of the word, the precise twist of those full lips makes Iker's stomach knot up. Iker swallows another mouthful of scotch before he braves to speak again.

"Why's that?"

Sergio's eyes are knowing but he's still smiling. He turns the bottle on the coaster beneath it, the rest of his body still but he's obviously considering. 

"Why do you think?"

Iker searches his eyes and his answer is right there, clinging to Sergio's eyelashes like water, covering his lips like spit, ebbing between them like the beautiful truth that taps at Iker's brain, reawakening something, filling him with a beautiful urgency. When his phone buzzes in his backpocket he almost spills his glass. Sergio sits back, subtle movements that indicate giving Iker space and privacy to answer his phone. He scrambles in his pocket for the phone and his finger twitches to find the right button to mash.

"Hello?"

"Hey, honey. How was class? Are you teacher's pet yet?"

Iker snorts for that, giving Sergio a quick apologetic glance before turning slightly away from him, dropping his voice to a whisper, a low, warm sound of which Sergio approves. Iker's heart is racing in his chest and he doesn't quite know why.

"Class was good. I'm having a drink with the professor actually. My next class is in an hour, so I'm just killing time."

"Oh." She sounds doubtful and Iker draws a deep breath to explain himself, to inevitably dig himself into a deeper hole but she speaks again before he can. "Well. Are you going to eat lunch at least?"

"I might grab a bite here before I leave. Don't worry I'll be fine."

"What's your professor's name again?"

"S-- Ramos."

Sergio watches him, half admiring his profile and half listening to the conversation. He drains the rest of his bottle of beer and waves to the bartender for another. 

"Well. Have fun. Don't forget that Bradley--"

"I know, El. I know. I'm the coach."

"How do you feel about meatloaf tonight?"

Iker drags a hand over his face, his head now throbbing dully. He represses a sigh and nods into his palm.

"Fine. It sounds just fine, hon."

"Are you sure? Because we can have spaghetti, if you really want. I just thought that maybe--"

"Meatloaf sounds delicious. I'll see you this evening, alright?"

"Alright." She still doesn't sound appeased but Iker's patience is wearing thin and she can hear it. "I love you."

Iker grunts, sitting up again for the first time since his conversation with his wife had begun. 

" _Iker._ "

"Love you, too." He rushes it out in an exasperated breath and turns back toward Sergio, both hands on the phone now as if he were having difficulty prying it from his face. He lifts his eyes to stare at Sergio in mild annoyance and Sergio waves it off instead of commiserating. He nurses cleanly from his new bottle and Iker watches. "Bye."

"Goodbye, Iker."

He hangs up quickly and sinks his phone into his pocket again, reaching for his scotch and drinking almost desperately. Sergio's eyes don't leave him.

"Yeah, if I were married, I wouldn't want to think either."

Iker manages a small laugh, lifting his glass for Sergio to clink his bottle against, which he does.

"I'll drink to that."

 

\--

 

"When are you coming to bed?"

Iker glances over at his wife who is pulling the blankets up around her, smoothing them out before reaching for her sleepmask on the bedside table. She pulls it on over her head and rests it on her forehead as she smiles at Iker, waiting for him to come to bed instead of actually answering the question. Iker frowns down at the book he's curled around at his desk, not speaking until he's finished writing out his last thought in the margin. He edges his glasses up on his nose and looks over at Elena again who is still beautiful, who is freshly showered and probably smells like some sort of soft flower, who might even give him a blow job if he asks nicely, if he played his cards just right. He looks back down at the book, at the handout of papers he'd gotten from Sergio as a part of his homework. He twists his pen in his hand and gnaws at the abused inside of his lip.

"Go ahead and go to sleep. I have to finish this up."

"You can finish in the morning, Iker. Come on, you have to get up early. You promised Tabby you'd eat lunch with her at school, remember?" 

Iker sighs, finally pulled out of the world of Oscar Wilde and his flowery words and dropped back down into reality, into his actual life where it's raining and would be foggy in the morning, where his head hurts from straining his eyes to read and write in class without pulling out his dreaded reading glasses, where his knee aches because of the rain and where he'd had to battle with his son to get him to do his math homework before bed. He closes the book and takes off his glasses, tossing them down on the desk and carefully turning off his lamp, leaving the room in blessed darkness. Iker crosses the room to get to the bed, not running into anything only because he'd made this same journey hundreds of times before.

The sheets are cool on his bare chest when he slips beneath them and he sighs as he settles back against his pillows, listening as Elena turns on her side to sleep, having long ago gotten over the fact that they don't kiss each other goodnight anymore, they can barely remember to wish each other such a thing. He keeps his eyes open and finally they adjust to the darkness and he can look out the window, the moon full and almost annoyingly bright. Elena breathes in opposite time with him and he suddenly recalls with frightening clarity the sound of Sergio breathing, can imagine what he would sound like lying in bed, what he would look like with all that hair spread out on a pillow, what shine his eyes would have in near complete darkness, what warmth his skin would have in the cool of night. When he closes his eyes the moon burns on the insides of his eyelids and he falls asleep reciting words in his mind, words from the book he'd just been pouring over, memorizing, that he'd written a single, small "s" in the margin.

_O rising moon! O Lady moon!_  
Be you my lover's sentinel,  
You cannot choose but know him well,  
For he is shod with purple shoon,  
You cannot choose but know my love,  
For he a shepherd's crook doth bear,  
And he is soft as any dove,  
And brown and curly is his hair. 


	3. Chapter 3

"Lakers are so gonna win this." Iker sneers in confidence and he parts his lips to tip the beer back into his mouth, swallowing without closing his mouth at all and Sergio looks away politely.

"Oh, you think so?"

" _Yeah._ " Iker pauses and then turns to Sergio in surprise, licking his lips clean of alcohol. "Wait. Do you seriously think the Magic are going to win? Are you kidding me? LA have won, like--"

Sergio's grin shuts Iker right up and they both relax back against the couch, a respectable distance from each other. They both squirm and their knees find each other. Iker looks over at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"You don't watch basketball. Do you?"

Sergio gives a soft snort and lifts his glass in a mock toast to Iker.

"Iker, are you sure you don't want wings instead of pizza? You were just talking earlier about how much you wanted wings." Elena appears from the kitchen, phone poised in her hand, ready to dial. Sergio turns to face her immediately and gives her a sweet smile but his eyes come to rest on Iker who is reluctant to face his wife.

"Pizza is good, El." Iker clears his throat nervously, feeling for all the world like an eight-year-old who is having a new friend over for a sleepover for the first time. He looks up at Sergio through his lashes and Sergio rewards him with a warm smile. "As long as... I mean, unless _you_ want wings? I just thought that pizza..."

"Would be less of a mess to eat?"

Iker looks relieved and embarrassed at the same time. "Yeah."

"Pizza sounds perfect."

Their eyes meet and hold for a beat too long and Iker's cheeks are pink when he finally looks back up at his wife. "Get us a large."

"What kind?"

Iker's eyes return gratefully to Sergio but Sergio is already looking at Elena.

"Sicilian. I love all meat."

Iker's eyes widen and his cheeks are so red now that Elena looks alarmed. He looks away from her as cheers erupt from the television and he comes to life, clapping his hands together perhaps too hard. "Come on come on come on come on..."

"DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY D--"

"Tabitha. I hear you."

His daughter comes to an immediate stop in front of him, ponytail jumping a little to settle. She licks her mouth nervously and then offers him a beaming smile, a piece of paper and a fat pencil clutched in her pale hand. Sergio leans forward and presses his finger gently into Tabitha's dimple.

"Where did you find that dimple? I lost mine and I've been looking for it _everywhere_."

Tabitha beams over at her father's new friend and gives an excited hop. "It's my Daddy's! He said I stoled it from him when I was born! But it's okay c-cause!" She stops to breathe but continues immediately where she left off. "Cause he has another one!"

"Oh, is that so?" They both look over at Iker who is watching the game again, engrossed. He gets squirmy when he realizes he's been looked at by two sets of oversized, bright eyes and he blinks at them both, eyebrows raised.

" _What_?"

Sergio shakes his head at Tabitha, arms crossed over his chest, unconvinced. "I don't see any dimples. I think you might be fibbing."

Tabitha gasps, scandalized. She abandons her pencil and paper on the coffee table next to Iker's feet and jumps up into her father's lap, drawing his attention immediately away from the game.

"Daddy, show him your dimple! He doesn't believe me!"

Iker just stares at her, clearly lost. He looks over to find Sergio smiling almost flirtatiously with him and his hands tighten on his daughter's waist unknowingly. "He doesn't believe you?"

"You probably can't even make him smile, can you?" Sergio challenges Tabitha one more time and he knows he's gotten her this time because her tiny hands grapple for Iker's stomach immediately, digging in clumsily in an attempt to tickle him. Iker grunts and tries to pull Tabitha back from his body, curling down to deter her.

"Stop stop stop! No tickles, I told you!"

Sergio's eyebrows raise, the secret revealed. He narrows his eyes gravely at the now giggling Tabitha. "Ooh. Is your daddy ticklish?"

Tabitha shrieks with laughter, already knowing where this is going. "YES!"

Sergio turns toward Iker now, strong arms and even stronger hands finding his ribs and tickling him immediately. Iker yowls in pain and tries to twist away from Sergio, trying to hold in laughter for as long as he can because it's bloody embarrassing. Tabitha's giggles echo in the room and she gets jostled delightfully in Iker's lap as he pushes away from Sergio who overtakes him entirely too easily, who pins him back against the couch, tickling him ruthlessly. Tabitha sits on Iker's chest now and bounces there, causing Iker's now forced laughter to be staccato and breathless. He reaches up and drags her off his body, placing her on the floor and he fights back against Sergio's hands, looking like a rumpled cat now, mortified and red-faced and oh, oh, there it is!

"SEE! SEE I TOLD YOU HE'S GOT A DIMPLE!" Tabitha points at Iker's face and it disappears as if by magic as he forces himself not to smile, still jerking away from Sergio's threatening, twitching fingers on his stomach. Their eyes meet as if in a challenge and Sergio's smile is pure warmth.

"Tabitha, make him smile. I gotta see this thing."

She hops back into Iker's lap and kneels there, meeting his eyes with a happy, sloppy smile. He pushes her bangs out of her eyes and tucks some of the fallen hairs from her ponytail behind her ears. She rests her hands on Iker's cheeks and pets him adoringly, deliberately. When she speaks, it's to Sergio but she doesn't look away from her daddy who is secretly her favorite person in the world.

"Dimples are from too much kisses in the same spot. Daddy said he's been kissed right there since he was a baby! And so he did the same thing to me and he gave me one of his dimples that way. So I keep kissing his old dimple spot to bring one back!" She leans forward and kisses Iker's cheek over and over and over and his face absolutely lights up, his one, legendary dimple peeking through. Sergio just stares at him, a soft smile permanently plastered on his face. Iker surprises Tabitha by kissing her dimple and she squeals softly, getting turned around in Iker's lap so she reaches for her paper and pencil again, lifting it up to show Iker her handiwork.

"I did all my math problems! All by myself!" They both stare at the paper and Iker quickly checks it over, giving a grunt of approval and pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

"My smart girl. Have you already gotten a bath?"

She shakes her head exaggeratedly, half giggling and half watching her long ponytail swing around and land on her cheeks with each swivel of her head. He scrunches his hands on her soft tummy as he returns her to her feet on the floor, drawing another squeal from her.

"Go take one for me, will you? Your bedtime is in half an hour. Can you do that?"

She looks almost solemn, large sand colored eyes serious as she nods. "Yes, Daddy."

His smile softens into something beyond love and his voice is even softer.

"Say goodnight to Mr. Ramos."

She turns to Sergio and looks shy all over again, fingers tangling fitfully in front of her. She stares down at her feet and grins.

"Night, Mr..." She glances up at him for help and then apologetically over at her Daddy. Sergio grins.

"Call me Sergio."

"Mr. Sergio!"

Her eyes widen as Sergio leans over Iker and takes her one free hand and presses a tiny kiss to the top of it.

"Goodnight, Ms. Tabitha."

Her cheeks flush bright pink and she runs from the room up the stairs, unable to repress her giggles once she thought Sergio and her father were out of earshot. Iker glances over at Sergio, an apology on his tongue but the genuine joy in Sergio's eyes stops him. He can't help but notice that Sergio has shifted closer to him in all their jostling but he again doesn't say anything. Sergio watches as Iker almost settles back into the game and he chooses then to speak because he honestly couldn't care less about basketball.

"She's delightful."

Iker's head snaps over and he meets Sergio's eyes and his stomach floods with warmth. He forces a rather dopey smile onto his face and he can't help but notice that Sergio looks down at his mouth. He licks his lips out of pure instinct and he can't stop staring at the fall of Sergio's eyelashes. "She's special."

"She's just like you. She's amazing." Sergio's eyes finally come back to meet his own and they feel so close now to Iker, the room feels tiny and his breath feels nonexistent. The feeling racing through his veins is so potent that he can't help that he's breathing harshly but it's foreign and frightening and he knows that, at the core of it, it's wrong. He swallows thickly and tastes beer and feels the tiniest bit of relief that maybe he can blame this on alcohol. A sudden shriek sounds from upstairs and Tabby's laughter rings down the hallway and through the livingroom and Iker closes his eyes finally, head ducking in what can only be call timidity. He looks away from Sergio and back at the television and he can feel Sergio's breath on his neck, very soft. He imagines his mouth in that same spot of now warm skin and he shivers, the jolt spreading like fire through the base of his spine and around to his ribs.

"Tabby, damnit! I told you not to get the floor all wet! We just got it re-tiled last week!" Tabitha's laughter immediately stops at the almost shrill sound of her mother's voice and Iker's jaw tenses noticeably. Sergio reaches over to trail his finger faintly over Iker's cheek, trying to ease some of the tension.

"Want another beer?"

Iker's mind is still spinning over the phantom feel of Sergio's finger and he cannot bring himself to look over at him. He sucks in a loud breath and clears his throat, leaning forward and forcing himself to concentrate on the game.

"Yeah. Thanks, man."

Sergio smiles ruefully and stands up, finding his way to the kitchen easily and taking two more beers from the fridge, noting the three bottles of Stella Artois in the back behind the Michelob. Iker's victorious outburst from the livingroom brings him back to the present and he makes his way back to him, even opening the bottle for him before pressing it into his hand. Iker beams at him and lifts his bottle in a toast and takes a long drink.

"Kobe's amazing. I don't care if he's an asshole. He can't be denied."

Sergio nods a little with an amused smile on his face, taking his place beside Iker and making sure to sit decidedly next to him, shoulders and thighs touching. Iker looks over at him with a quirked eyebrow, the humor and ease having returned to his eyes.

"You're just humoring me, aren't you?"

"If this is the way to hang out with you, I don't mind it. You act like a little kid when you watch games. It's charming."

Iker turns to face him once again and that dimple comes into full view. "You think I'm charming?"

Sergio shrugs and turns his whole body to face him, lifting an arm to brace it up on the couch cushion, head tilting to rest his temple against his open palm. "Maybe."

"I'm the most... uncharming person in the world. I even make up words like 'uncharming.' I'm... I'm awkward and frumpy and grumpy and fumbling and uncultured and a wimp and--"

"Sexy."

Iker's glance is dangerous now but Sergio doesn't look away. Iker tries five times to speak before he's successful and even then it's questionable.

"...What?"

"You're sexy. Completely sexy."

"...Are you drunk?"

"If I say yes, will that make you feel better?"

"...Maybe."

"Then, yes."

Iker lets out a sigh of relief but his shoulders stay tense. He turns back to the television and his knuckles are bright white as he clutches his bottle.

"...Good."

 

\--

 

The pizza arrives in a somewhat timely manner and by then, the game is nearly over. Sergio eats two slices of pizza while Iker helps himself to four, adding another beer to his meal. By the fourth quarter, Sergio is nearly asleep and there are no sounds coming from the upstairs part of the house. Elena is in the kitchen doing god knows what, doing dishes or eavesdropping or having a quiet conversation on the phone with her mother (which Iker suspects is the case as he keeps hearing her loud, whispered voice at quiet moments of the game). Iker draws a breath to remark on something to Sergio but hears him drag in a long breath that almost sounds like a snore if it wasn't so quiet. He blinks at him a couple of times and realizes finally that he really, truly is asleep. He listens to make sure his wife isn't getting any closer to the livingroom before he moves a little closer to Sergio, his eyes trailing over his body that seems powerful somehow even under an unremarkable, rather loose-fitted t-shirt and comfortable jeans. He turns toward him slightly and imagines for just a moment how it would feel to have Sergio awake while he moves so freely near him. He reaches over and lets his fingers just barely trail over his hair that is draped on one broad shoulder and its softness is almost alarming.

His other hand shakes unsurely before coming to rest on Sergio's knee and he's holding his breath now, his entire body tensed and ready for something to happen, ready to take his punishment for this. He waits for a few beats and, when nothing happens to him, he relaxes a little. He watches his fingers spread out on Sergio's thigh and he forces himself to memorize the exact feel of him, of the strength of his muscles and the hardness of his body, the quiet strength ebbing from his skin through soft denim. Iker licks his lips quickly and his mind races ( _He's a_ man _, Iker, a_ man. _What the fuck are you_ doing?) as he loses his fingers under the heaviness of Sergio's dark hair, reassured by the even, deep sounds of Sergio's breathing. He shifts again and he feels dizzy, heavy with warmth and his limbs loose.

As the final whistle sounds on the television, he leans gently on Sergio, pressing his face into his neck and trying in controlled franticness to seem like he's just fallen asleep this way, like this isn't at all planned, like he isn't just this desperate to be near him. He's tense again for another long moment and relaxes slowly little by little, finally, finally drawing a deep breath and Sergio's smell fills his nostrils and it feels like a victory, it feels like maybe he's earned this luxury.

Sergio smells like faint sweat, like an expensive body wash, like clean clothes, like beer and like warmth, a scent that Iker can't quite put his finger on but it's immediately familiar and appetizing and somehow sexual. ( _Sexy. He thinks you're sexy.)_

He knows he's drunk now because he doesn't hesitate to push his face closer to Sergio's skin, his lips not so firmly closed as they drag up against his skin that is very slightly damp from the weight of his hair and he feels the sweat collecting on his mouth, his heart races with realization that he's going to pull away and have a taste of him, that no matter what else happens, no matter if he gets punched or if Elena walks in, all he has to do is lick his lips and there Sergio will be and no one can take that away from him.

Sergio shifts next to (beneath) him and Iker pushes tighter against him, desperate to stay close for as long as possible, trying to will himself to go to sleep and maybe they can wake up like this in the morning, innocent but close, intimate, familiar. He draws in a ragged breath against Sergio's skin and the sudden, alluring sound of Sergio whimpering is all he can hear and his heart stammers in his chest. Sergio's hand finds his body and it pushes up along his hip, tugging on a belt loop and pushing up on Iker's shirt to get to soft bare skin, to spread dusk and honey fingers out over Iker's hip, to cup his hipbone and he pushes his head to the side even more, his tongue stealing out to lick over the pillow of his mouth. He lets out another sound and his hand is definitely awake on Iker's body, a definite hunger in his breath and his fingertips.

"Taste me."

Iker's stomach spasms and it's delicious and painful and his body is immediately hot, so hot. Those words replay in his head over and over again and he can hear how pink Sergio's mouth is in them, he can hear his sex, can taste what his orgasm would feel like. He turns more toward him, his hand clasping in Sergio's hair and giving it a small tug to test Sergio's resolve as his lips part and his tongue slips out and touches skin and then returns and then there it is, the salt of his skin all over his tongue, his taste is inside his mouth and permeating his senses and his cock is like a burning thickness inside his pants and he has never felt more like an animal than he does right now with the tip of his tongue against his professor's pulsepoint, drawing out such soft, hungry little sounds from him.

Elena's footsteps sound like cracks of thunder in Iker's ears and he pulls back immediately, sucking on his tongue in his mouth as he falls back against the couch, head hitting the arm of it hard but his eyes are closed and his legs are draped over Sergio's lap and he's clutching a pillow over his dick just as Elena enters the room noisily and he hears her draw a breath to speak before she realizes that both of them appear to be dead to the world, boyishly asleep across each other like puppies. The one-two-three seconds it takes her to decide what to do are the longest of Iker's life and he hears Sergio grunt near him, hears him suck in a sleep-filled breath and lick his lips.

"Honey, I think it's time you go home. You both dropped like flies after you ate." There's a smile in Elena's voice, an oblivious one and it calms Iker slightly. He forces his eyes not to flutter because that was always what had given him away when he was little when he would pretend to sleep in front of his mother. Sergio stirs beside him and he apparently nods because Elena is gone again and they're alone and Sergio, this time, is definitely awake. Iker breathes deeply, even affecting a snore even if Sergio had been awake and therefore knew that Iker wasn't really asleep, even if he would catch hell for this later.

He feels the heat of Sergio's body all of a sudden and his cock strains even harder in his pants and then there's Sergio's mouth on his neck, his nose nestled beneath the curve of his jaw and his mouth is kissing hungrily at his skin, his broad hand stealing up once more under Iker's shirt, this time to rub up over his chest under soft cotton, teasing his nipple with the pad of his thumb and then he's gone just as quickly as he'd arrived, mouth and hand and body and all. Iker hears him leave the livingroom, hears his voice mix with Elena's and then the door and then a car engine and it's only then that Iker lets himself move, that he sits up and reaches up to touch his neck, to touch that quickly drying wet spot and he runs his fingers over it and licks at them guiltily, mortified and confused beyond all reason but he knows without a doubt that that was the most intensely erotic experience of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

Iker pauses as soon as he steps out of the building and his eyes are filled with the overflow of colors in the sky, with the purples and oranges and pinks and ocean blues. He stop right where he is and smiles, lets himself be dazzled. He feels inspired but in a helpless sort of way, in a way that reminds him that he doesn't really know how to do anything artistic very well. He wants to put words to the colors, he wants to capture it in a photograph from a wholly new angle, he wants to bring the colors to perfect life with watercolors. But he knows under his skin that he would fail at any of those things but he's in a good enough mood to remind himself that he is very good at appreciating. So his smile doesn't leave and he takes a step forward, and there beneath the tree in the middle of the small clearing between the building and the parking lot, sits Sergio like a movie, legs folded in lazy Indian-style, miscellaneous books and stacks beside him but one large, heavy book cradled in his lap. His hair is pulled back and strands of it are lifting and trailing over his face in the small breeze and his mouth is slack in concentration, in utter unawareness. Iker pauses again, appreciating again and perhaps even more now than with the sunset. He doesn't feel his fingers twitching in a dull ache at his sides.

And just like magic or a sudden fit of awareness, Sergio looks up and over, his eyes finding Iker flawlessly and they both just stare for a single second in pure want, in painful desire and then there's Sergio's smile, brightening the evening even under the dark shadows of his tree and Iker can't help but smile back, but lift his inadequate hand and wave his fingers in some sort of greeting, in a sort of "oh god, how I want you," or maybe a "let me come to you under that tree and spread you out against it and maybe please let me..."

"Hey."

Sergio pushes himself to his feet and Iker's heart sinks, his perfect picture ruined. He's easily consoled because they're walking toward each other and he watches Sergio's features become clearer and clearer the closer they got. Sergio ducks his head and for all the world looks _shy_ , looks as young as he is or maybe younger and for just a little bit makes Iker feel like a man, feel in charge, feel powerful and god, Iker, what was that word? (Sexy.)

"I didn't mean to disturb you."

Iker looks down at Sergio's shoulders and his collarbones and his chest as they inch a little closer and he can see Sergio's smile broadening just out of his line of vision. They waver toward each other and Sergio's fingers find Iker's long sleeve that is draped over the knuckle of his thumb and he tugs.

"You didn't. I need to get up anyway. It's getting dark and I'm getting hungry."

"Hungry?" Iker's father instincts kick in and he looks up at Sergio, into those dark eyes and he knows (and almost hopes Sergio can see) the vulnerability in his eyes is painfully obvious. Sergio smiles and he ducks his head again and Iker feels fire curl under his navel.

"Yeah. Forgot to each lunch. Got sucked into reading all of your papers and forgot."

Iker's cheeks color and he clears his throat gently.

"You read mine?"

Sergio's fingers spread out over his wrist and push up over the buttersoft knit of Iker's sweater, journeying toward his elbow. He nods and Iker can hear him breathing. He can hear him.

"You're very observant, Iker. You see things in such a... unique way. And you know how to convey your thoughts. It's a pleasure to read, honestly."

"So I'll get a C, then?"

Sergio grins and he's gripping Iker's elbow now, tugging on his arm flirtatiously.

"Maybe."

"It's Friday night. Are you gonna go out with your friends? Hit a club or a party or whatever it is you kids do?"

Sergio shakes his head and Iker watches him from this luxuriously close distance, his hips cocked out toward Sergio and surely to god anyone walking by could see this, this seduction, this dance.

"I don't really go for any of that. I got over that years ago."

"So what are you going to do tonight?"

"I don't know?" He looks up at Iker and there's definitely an invitation in his eyes, the precise lift of them and draw of his eyebrows are nothing but hopeful. "Microwave a dinner, maybe. Watch some television. Go to bed early."

"Noo, come on. You've gotta get out and be around other people your age. Let go and dance and live a little. Be around other beautiful people. You know?"

"What if I don't want to?" Sergio is practically begging now and Iker can taste it, his heart is stammering with his impending courage.

"Well." Iker lifts his head and pretends to look across the parking lot, pretends to be coming up with a thought, a plan, as if he hadn't been thinking about this exact situation presenting itself for two solid weeks since their escapade on his couch. "I don't really have anything to do tonight. And I drove Betty."

"Betty?" Sergio takes the bait seamlessly, turning to look out at the nearly empty parking lot as well and Iker glances down just in time to see the sliding line of tendons in Sergio's neck as he moves. His hand tightens at his side but doesn't venture forward.

"My Mustang."

Sergio's eyes light up like Christmas.

"You've got a Mustang?"

Iker grins and it's almost cocky and he nods over at his car, gleaming dark and shining like spilled ink on the pavement.

"1966. Fastback. Leather interior. I fully restored it, put a V8 engine in her, suspension, new paint job, the whole nine."

Sergio moans, he actually moans, turned fully toward the parking lot now and he starts walking toward the car before Iker even moves. He grins and lets him walk over to her, taking his time following him by side-tracking to the tree to gather Sergio's belongings, carefully placing them in his open bag and hoisting it up onto his shoulder, the sky a darkwater violet and blue now, stars hinting at the darkest bits, the moon curling brightly on the left side of Iker's vision. He only sees Sergio, only sees his sun-worshiped hands trailing over the hood of his car, sees his mouth as he licks it over and over, his eyes dragging over the car like it's a naked, beautiful body and Iker shivers just for the thought, for the guilty pleasure of a thought that Sergio would look at anyone like that. He plucks his keys from his own bag and Sergio turns at the sound, his eyes bright and liquid and his mouth is gaping slightly.

"She's gorgeous."

Iker grins and shrugs the bags up higher on his shoulder and he steps in closer to Sergio while he's under this spell, lets himself be a little bolder because Sergio seems even more pliant right now.

"She's my baby."

"Can I ride?"

Iker has to restrain himself from getting closer and their eyes are not moving from each other. He can only nod and Sergio steps back after a long moment, clearing the way so Iker can unlock the car. Iker instead walks around and unlocks the passenger side first, opens the door and steps back to let Sergio get in and they're quiet now, they're aware and pulsing and aching and every movement and touch is deliberate. Iker waits until Sergio is tucked in and he stands over him (appreciating, appreciating), waiting until Sergio looks up at him before he closes the door and he walks around the front, thinking maybe perhaps maybe Sergio likes the way he looks when he does it, likes how Iker trails his fingers over the hood like it's an inner thigh, likes how his ass looks in his jeans, how his hips swagger and dip and lift. Iker puts the key in the ignition and the car roars to life, the sound of it nothing but intensely sexual, but fire and hardness and claws and teeth and bone. Sergio shudders when he feels it under him, when the rough vibration of the engine pushes up through his seat and his cock aches. Iker rolls down his window and then reaches over Sergio's body to roll his down as well, his cheek grazing Sergio's mouth and Sergio breathes him in, his overt masculinity, his secrets, his frustration, his raw power that he can almost taste. Iker sits back and his hand slides down to cup the gearshift.

"What do you want to eat?"

Sergio looks over at him in the near darkness and his eyes are almost glowing.

"Just drive."

 

 

\--

 

 

The town is charmingly small and so the outskirts are no more than fifteen minutes away. For Iker, about seven. The road stretches out and narrows and curves and the traffic becomes more than scarce and they're alone, ripping down a road barely big enough for two cars, the night fully born now and the sky is heavily pregnant with stars, all of it lit up brilliantly and Iker has to concentrate on keeping his eyes on the road because god, he can just imagine how Sergio is glowing beside him, can imagine what the notes from the song playing look like when they brush his skin, he can imagine how his heart would feel pounding in his chest (against his own chest). The air feels cooler here, slightly damp as they near water. Iker feels Sergio shift closer and he speeds up, his fingers dancing lightly on the wheel and his eyes burning straight ahead. When Sergio's hand finds his thigh he sucks in an audible breath, his eyes fluttering and he drives even faster, the speed making Sergio's skin tingle and his fingers spread out on Iker's thick thigh, his nails digging into denim. He grits his teeth and he's irrationally terrified of Sergio laughing at how his cock is immediately straining against his pants. Sergio's mouth finds his neck and he moans, feeling like he could burst through his own skin and his hands are shaking now. Sergio is nothing but softness, but tender and he drops kisses down Iker's neck to his collarbone where his shirt stops him. His lips part and he's panting against Iker's skin.

"You're on fire."

Iker stutters out a couple of breaths and his mouth is dry but he licks his lips, hoping to inspire them to move correctly.

"W-We're almost there."

There's a clearing to the right and the water glitters past the field, untouched and unseen by anyone but them for the moment. Iker pulls off the road and he turns off the radio and then the car, the purr stopping immediately and leaving them in silence and Iker reaches for him with desire-roughened hands, not caring how he got across the console and into his lap just wanting it to happen, just letting Sergio figure it out as he pushes his seat back and then _fuck_ , there's the heaviest warmth settling on his lap, there is Sergio spread out across his body and smelling like sweat and the leather of the seat and the damp wind and like pure want and Iker sits back so he can stare up at him. He rubs Sergio's hips as he starts to rock on top of him, as he starts to grind down against Iker's dick and Iker growls, nails digging into Sergio's sides, crushing pliant skin. Iker reaches up to press a large hand flat against Sergio's crotch and he rubs, startled at how hard Sergio is, at how hard his body curls back over his steering wheel and by the breathless sound that flutters up out of his mouth. Sergio pushes up against his hand for more friction and Iker gives it to him without hesitation. He unbuttons Sergio's shirt one button at a time and he pushes his nose in against the exposed heat of his skin and breathes him in. The sound makes Sergio's eyes roll back in his head and he curls down over him now, his hair half-fallen from his ponytail and his mouth is swollen in anticipation and he covers Iker's hand with his own, grinding against them and he pants. Iker's mouth drags over his collarbone but he can't bring himself to kiss him, he can't allow himself the pleasure, the infidelity.

He pushes Sergio's shirt open to expose his chest and he buries the hungriest growl against his skin, thumbs stroking at Sergio's nipples and Sergio ignites again, rocking and digging against him and his hair is tickling over Iker's head and down across his cheeks and he's nuzzling Iker's temple. He cups Iker's cheeks and they tremble against each other, touching but just barely, only the strictest of control keeping mouths closed, tongues inside, clothes on.

"What do you want?"

Sergio's voice is pillowsoft and Iker exhales across his skin, rubbing wet lips over it and licking them obsessively to drink Sergio's taste down. Iker feels his head being tipped back and he's suddenly meeting Sergio's eyes and his heart feels like it's trying to break through his ribs. Sergio's thumb is solid and soft as it drags over Iker's mouth and Iker lets his lips part and his eyes fall closed in spite of himself.

"God. Too much."

"Start small. Start here." Sergio pulls his own shirt off and tosses it over to the passenger's seat, his shoulders gently curved and his arms are a Renaissance painting and his chest rises and falls in beautiful quickness. He brings Iker's hands up to his stomach, letting him feel the tremble in it before guiding those long fingers to his belt. Iker's mouth is parted against Sergio's chin as he slowly, reverently unbuckles the belt, the soft click mixing perfectly with their breathing and with Sergio's mouth feathering kisses over Iker's hairline, paying extra attention to the greying spots. Iker tugs the belt free with one strong pull and he rests it on top of Sergio's shirt. His hands shake on Sergio's hips and they push around back to the small of his back, to the beautiful dip of it, stroking at the dimples on either side of the base of his spine. Sergio sounds like he's in ecstasy and he cannot stop his small sounds, cannot stop how erratically he's breathing, how pleadingly he's kissing Iker's forehead. He arches around Iker's hands, welcoming them down the dip of his back and over the swell of his ass where his jeans are clinging. Iker rubs him there, savoring the feel of such suppleness, such gorgeous youth right here under his hands, his unworthy hands.

"I want you on the hood."

"Fuck." It's a breathless word and Sergio almost blushes for saying it at all but he recovers in record time, fumbling over for the door handle and finding it by some small miracle. He climbs out of the car and Iker is following him immediately, he's reaching out for his tight body and pulling it back against his own, he's pressing his cock against Sergio's ass and guiding Sergio to lie down on the hood and he stands back then, staring down at the offered up feast and he grips his own cock through his jeans, tugging on it hard. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the grass, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants and letting them hang off his hips as he steps up to Sergio again, as he pushes his hands up his back and feels Sergio's muscles glide beneath them, feels the ripple of his ribs and the swell of his lungs as he breathes and he pushes his nose in against his tailbone as he tugs his pants down without undoing them, taking his underwear with him and he's on his knees without realizing it, he's got his nose buried between Sergio's ass and he's tasting him through scent alone but his mouth is parted and Sergio is absolutely shaking. Iker reaches down into his pants and strokes his own cock and he's panting against Sergio's ass, not quite knowing what to do but knowing exactly what he wants to do. He jerks Sergio's pants down hard and forces them off his body (along with shoes, somehow, along with socks) and he forces Sergio's legs wide apart and he latches onto one of his inner thighs and sucks like his life depends on it and Sergio's legs give out from under him, forcing him to use his grip on the car to stay where he's laying. He closes his eyes and his breath fogs up the bright black paint of Iker's car and he can feel his mouth exactly, he can feel the starved suck of his lips and how his tongue is making the insides of his thighs slick with spit, he can feel the bruises that will be there in the morning, he can feel the press of Iker's fingernails on his ass as he grips it roughly. He pushes down on his face and he can feel the long line of Iker's nose pressing into his balls and he moans, reaching down to guiltily stroke himself, leaving wet drips on Iker's hood.

Before he knows it, Iker's gone and then he's back more than he ever was, his cock is burning hot against his ass and Iker's palm is in front of his mouth and his voice is a gruff command against his ear.

"Spit."

Sergio gathers saliva in his mouth and he spits it out in Iker's hand, not bothering to try and be dainty or modest. He hears Iker's breath quicken as he spreads the spit out on his cock and he nudges Sergio as his palm returns. He kisses across Sergio's jaw and Sergio's eyes slip closed.

"Again."

He spits into Iker's hand again and he kisses his fingers this time before it leaves but the second it does he's grinding back on him, loving the drops of hot liquid that drip on his skin from Iker's cock and it burns like candle wax, like hot water. Iker slaps Sergio's ass with his cock and Sergio buries his face against his forearm and cries out, his bottom lip dragging the paint. He's jostled suddenly as Iker's hands are on his legs and he's pushing them together until Sergio's thighs touch and Iker stares down at his ass that is almost heart-shaped now, the tiny space between his thighs shining with spit and he plunges his cock there beneath his balls and Sergio tightens his thighs instinctively and gasps for the intimate feel of Iker's cock, for how the head of it is nestled up against the base of his own cock and how Iker is now pressing down on him and licking the back of his neck and while all he wants is to beg for Iker to fuck him, he's entirely too turned-on to do much thinking at all.

Iker whimpers when Sergio crosses his feet and tightens his thighs even more, he buries his face against the back of Sergio's neck and starts to thrust his hips shamefully, guilt setting up deep in his gut and he knows how degrading this is for Sergio, he knows how cowardly it is on his part and he grips Sergio's biceps between his hands, his mouth and chin trembling against Sergio's skin and his kisses are frantic and desperate and wet.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Sergio thinks for a moment that he's imagined those words, that Iker didn't really whisper an apology in between such sweet, beautiful kisses, that he's not really apologizing for the way his hips are pounding against Sergio's ass and the way his cock is getting the tightest friction between his thighs that he possibly can, surely he's not apologizing for how Sergio feels absolutely overcome and covered and spread and smothered and fucked, somehow. Sergio cranes back to kiss at Iker's jaw and he reaches back with one hand to spread his own ass enough to plunge two fingers in and Iker shudders when he watches Sergio's mouth part as he starts to fuck himself. He ruts against him, his cock dragging up against Sergio's tight balls and all he can smell is his sweat everywhere, he can lick it up all across his shoulders and down his spine and he can see the movement of the muscles in his right arm as he works his fingers in and out of his own body. Sergio's cheek is press down against the cool hood and the stars are lighting them up, casting an ethereal glow over Sergio's skin and Iker kisses Sergio's cheek, stroking down his body lustfully, knowing full well this is the ultimate sin but if he's going get in trouble for it, he wants to remember. He wants his fingers to contain the knowledge of every inch of skin, every bead of sweat, he wants his mind's eye to have captured the sight of Sergio in the beats before climax, he wants to remember every breath and every sound that leaves that pouted mouth.

He reaches around and grips Sergio's cock in his hand and Sergio bucks back against him, digging a third finger into his ass and pulling up to fuck himself viciously, every ounce of dignity and reserve gone from him. Iker strokes his cock and it's the strangest feeling, it's like jerking off without feeling it but it's wholly satisfying in its own way, even more so in some ways because of how Sergio's eyelashes flutter, because his voice gets higher and faster and breathier and they're moving against each other like wild things, because Sergio is now licking and kissing the hood of the car and Iker licks the fogged, damp spots he leaves on the paint and he gives one final thrust and comes between his thighs, his voice strained and uncouth and he could swear that he's praying though to whom he couldn't say. He keeps his cock where it is and it's still throbbing and he licks a line down Sergio's spine only to kiss his way back up though his eyes catch on what Sergio's hand is doing, the frenzied way he's fucking himself and Iker catches hold of Sergio's wrist and pulls up on it roughly, making him fuck even harder, making it even faster and Sergio falls apart then, caught between Iker's two world-ending hands and between steel and the coiled muscle and nerves and strength of Iker's body and he spurts hot and ravenously on the hood of the car, rocking down into Iker's hand and his hips are being bruised by the metal but he rubs and rubs anyway, shaking violently but Iker holds onto him, he wraps his arms around him somehow and kisses the side of his mouth and the line of his jaw and the haven of his neck and Sergio lets himself be boneless beneath him, lets his body ebb tiredly and he feels the burn on the stars on his skin and Iker is vaster than all of them, than the moon and the whole universe is being kissed into his flushed body.

The wind picks up and the hushed sound of the grass blowing around them is almost melodic. Iker lets Sergio up enough to turn him over and they move farther up on the hood until they can actually lay on it, and Iker keeps Sergio spread out there and they finally, finally kiss, mouths clinging to each other gratefully and Sergio is still panting and Iker can't stop stroking his cheek, can't keep his fingers out of his hair. Sergio finally smiles and he ends a kiss only to have Iker continue it over his cheek, his nose.

"That was Oscar Wilde's favorite way to have sex."

Iker grunts and it's approval if anything. He finds Sergio's mouth again and they kiss in earnest, sucking breaths sounding loud on close cheeks. They calm into small kisses and Iker's finger is circling Sergio's nipple and Sergio is spread out like an Adonis on top of his car, unashamed of his body and welcoming of any touch or kiss or word that Iker can give him.

Iker kisses him again just for that.


	5. Chapter 5

They had devised a most careful plan.

Iker, after three all but sleepless nights, had begged for Sergio. Had called him in the middle of the night in a hushed whisper and confessed horrible things to him, dark, wanting things, shameful things. He told him how often he thought of him, how much he wanted him, exactly what he wanted to do to him. Sergio had listened in hungry quiet, his breaths coming out faster and faster until at last he shuddered out an aching, lonely orgasm and Iker had cried by himself, curled on the corner of the couch in his dark livingroom, the sun rising with pale light from behind the trees of his garden.

They've made up a writer's workshop, a weekend retreat not too far away, had made up a professor friend of Sergio's so it could be in his house, had given just enough details for Elena to believe them but not enough that she got suspicious. So Iker had dramatically grumbled about packing while he put a few shirts and pants and briefs into an underused suitcase, had sighed as he put his shoes on and had kissed his wife with only the barest hint of guilt. He had climbed into his car and waved goodbye and headed not to deeper upstate New York but across town, toward the hip part of it that he'd only gone a few times, where there are record shops and cafes that announced unknown artists performing every night of the week, where beautiful young creatures stalked the streets with each other, hands in each other's pockets, eyes taking in life around them. Iker had watched them self-consciously, knowing that he wouldn't have the right gait to his walk if he were among them, wouldn't have the right mixture of knowing and disinterest in his eyes. His shoulders draw in little by little as he nears Sergio's street and finally his apartment, the rain falling much harder here than it had been at home, and when he gets out of the car he's having his old doubts again, fear of his own ineptness, that his cock isn't big enough for Sergio, that he isn't intelligent enough, that he doesn't know the right bands to listen to while fucking, he doesn't know the best, hidden dive in the city to seduce him. He used to. He climbs out of his car and dashes in the rain to retrieve his suitcase from the trunk, frowning down at the pavement as he makes his way through the parkinglot to door that led to the stairs that led to Sergio. He stares at the button he needs to push to buzz Sergio, his heart ambling around in his chest.

"I used to."

It takes him a full minute to push the button but Sergio responds almost immediately when he does, his voice low and unaltered by the crackly speaker.

"Are you wearing the ruby slippers?"

Iker grins to himself, shifting the suitcase from one hand to the other, his feet shuffling boyishly. He squints through the rain beating down before ducking his head to reply.

"I'm not wearing anything."

There's a pause, a perfectly timed one, before Sergio replies.

"Get up here. Now."

He hears the buzz and the click of the door unlocking and he opens it and takes the steps two at a time to get to Sergio's third floor apartment. (He'd been over once before, for drinks, along with four other adoring students. He'd felt old even then, despite his ability to put away more beers than all of them.)

He stops in front of Sergio's door and blinks at it for a moment, amazed at how unassuming it looks, at how ordinary it is and behind it is the most beautiful, mysterious creature of his adult life. He turns around to look at all the other doors in the hall, immediately deciding that he had been wrong initially, it did seem a little more special than the others, a little brighter, maybe. The door opens before he can continue his ridiculous train of thought and he opens his mouth to greet Sergio, to grin at him, to maybe wave like the ridiculous person he really is.

Sergio stands before him without a single article of clothing on, the grey light from the window behind him sending a glow over his dark honey skin, making how soft he is, how supple, how delicious painfully evident. He stands there in the yawned open door, uncaring of who sees him this way, who sees his half-hard cock tipping up from the trimmed dark hair around it, who sees his curved hipbones and the tight line of his stomach and chest, who sees his powerful, somehow lithe thighs and arms, who sees his sleep-softened petal pink mouth and who sees the love in his eyes when he looks out at Iker, Iker who is standing there before him unworthy, so unworthy in his old college t-shirt, in his loose-fitting jeans and his beat-up Nikes, who has five condoms in his pocket and with a heart that is barely being contained in the strong trap of his chest. They stare at each other for what feels like an entire existence, their bodies recognizing each other, the proximity and the painful familiarity and need between them and they waver toward each other, fingers gripping wood and gripping plastic suitcase handles until it becomes too much and Iker steps forward, his hands already trembling for him as he enters the apartment, as he drops the suitcase with a loud thud and Sergio closes and locks the door and they're free for each other now, free as all the world and they reach for each other with more desire than either of them quite know what to do with.

Mouths touch before fingers and Iker is sucking on his bottom lip by the time his hands close the distance between them, by the time they find his chest and run up over his nipples. Sergio gasps into his mouth and he presses in closer, opening his mouth to be sucked on and he kisses him back with the slowness of this moment, with the build-up of intensity between them, they touch each other with well-meant hands because they know this is wrong, they know this is sinful, they know this is not allowed and so they feel every single second, every breath and touch and word and impending moment. Iker's hands grip down Sergio's body until they're on his young thighs and he pulls them apart, causing Sergio to wrap his arms around Iker's neck, a short, quiet breath puffing from Sergio's mouth across his cheek as he's lifted up by Iker's capable hands, lifted up onto his hips and he wraps his legs around him and Iker holds him up effortlessly and they kiss for keeps now, feeding from each other. Iker walks them back against the wall, the closest surface, and he savors the tiny grunt Sergio makes when his back hits the wall and they move against each other here, Sergio thoroughly naked and Iker fully clothed, they rub and grind and tip hips up and down until their burning parts find each other and Sergio gasps again and it's beautiful enough to make tears burn in Iker's eyes.

He feels the heel of one of Sergio's feet digging into the small of his back, no doubt digging out a bruise but he doesn't care, he craves it. His hands are on Sergio's ass now and they're cupping it to keep him up on his body, they're spread out as only a man's hands can be over the best curve of skin that poetry had never captured. Sergio arches against him and pushes himself up off the wall and Iker wordlessly obeys, walking them toward Sergio's bedroom (god, Iker had seen it the last time he was over, he had seen the door peeked open and Sergio's bed in the corner, messy and inviting and god, how he'd ached to smell his sheets, to feel the cool whisper of them against his skin, to feel Sergio writhing underneath him on that mattress). They luxuriously leave the bedroom door open and Iker lays Sergio down on the bed, letting his upper body hit the mattress while the rest of him curved up to where he's attached to Iker's body, those long legs wrapped around his hips and Iker stares down at him, his hands running over the insides of Sergio's thighs where they're pressed against the denim of his own pants, he runs his thumbs over the hard lines of Sergio's hipbones, over the vulnerable curve of the very lowest part of Sergio's stomach, over the soft tangle of hair around that beautiful cock. Iker's fingers trace around it in fascination and Sergio watches him breathlessly, arms stretched up to rub Iker's forearms, fingers ghosting over Iker's thick fingers that tease the base of his dick and he's already flushed, already hungry for him.

Iker watches Sergio's cock grow even harder and his own is pleading inside of his pants, begging mindlessly as cocks do for tightness, for warmth and the sanctuary of Sergio's body because it knows where it belongs, it defies all logic and reality and _wants_. He touches the tip of Sergio's cock with his thumb and his cheeks flush as a clear spurt of liquid pours over his fingers and Sergio moans, a thick, contented _mmmmmm_ deep in his chest and Iker is breathing so deeply, so heavily. He lifts his wet thumb to his mouth and sucks on it, tasting that liquid and it's his turn to moan now and he licks and licks at his thumb until he can't taste anything else and he feels Sergio's hand closing around his wrist, tugging at his arm and so he lets go, he lets Sergio bring his hand down to him and he watches as he takes his glistening thumb into his own mouth. He licks his lips as he watches him, as he feels his tongue working secretly inside of that hot mouth and he watches Sergio's chest lift and fall as he tastes Iker's spit, drinks it down greedily. He unhooks his legs from Iker's body and he falls down completely onto the bed, a coy, sweet smile on his mouth and Iker is fearful of him now, fearful of the power Sergio has over him without even trying, fearful of how aroused he is, how unknowing of this sort of thing, how inexperienced with a man's body to crave it so much. Sergio pulls himself to sit up and Iker stands over him between his parted legs, arms at his side, ready to obey, ready to do absolutely anything that would please him, _him_ , that beautiful man down there.

Sergio lowers his eyes as he lifts his hands and he watches the progress of his own work as he lifts Iker's shirt up, revealing a hint of his pale stomach and he smiles to himself in aching tenderness, so paralyzingly turned-on by Iker, by every inch and thought of him. Iker shyly takes his shirt off and he looks even more fragile now, he looks even more naked than Sergio does and he meets his eyes with all the fear and want of a virgin, his fingers playing along Sergio's collar, dipping into the valleys of them and along the curves of his shoulders and back again. Sergio leans forward and his eyes close as his mouth finds Iker's stomach, his lips coming into a soft, reverent kiss above his navel and Iker feels something in him crack. He draws in a deep breath and tears burn in the corners of his eyes but his hands move again in earnest, sliding up to cup Sergio's neck and run along his jaw and back down and over and over again, each time getting closer and closer to his hair. He hears Sergio draw a deep breath and his eyes fall closed, unaware of anything but Sergio now and he can feel him breathing him in, feel him taking his scent down into his own body, feel his nose drag tenderly over his stomach as he kisses further down. Just when his stomach tenses as he prepares for Sergio's mouth near his cock he kisses back up, deeper kisses this time, wetter, and then that mouth is licking around one of his nipples and Iker is trembling against him and his hands are finding his hair and pushing through long strands to drag blunt nails over his scalp. Sergio kisses and licks at his nipple, encouraging him, encouraging anything and everything Iker wants to do.

Iker wants to tell him that it's never been like this, that he's never really known how good it feels to have his nipples sucked, how it feels to have long, knowing fingers twist and tweak the other one but he can't say a word, he can't quite tell him anything. The rain falls steadily outside, blowing across Sergio's window and it's not an ideal, romantic rain, it's more thrashing than that, more threatening but it puts more shadows in the room, it makes Iker's heart beat faster so that when Sergio's mouth licks back down his body, down the line of his stomach and he feels the tug of his fingers on his belt he feels his stomach quake, feels it under the nursing of Sergio's mouth and they tip their heads to lock eyes and Sergio smiles. Iker's eyes are burning and he's scared deeply, quietly in his mind but it's the most glorious feeling, it's the most alive he's ever felt and he curls down so they can kiss while Sergio works him out of his pants, their tongues lapping at each other and Iker steps out of his pants after a quick fight with his shoes (loosely tied, he had known this exact predicament would present itself). Sergio tugs at his underwear (new underwear, suave black instead of his normal white, expensive, slightly dangerous looking, definitely more sophisticated than he's been in years), uncaring of its color or brand because the skin under it is buttermelt soft and his teeth trail over one of Iker's hipbones while he works the tiny bit of fabric down Iker's ass and thighs and off onto the floor, immediately forgotten.

Iker watches him carefully as Sergio takes in the sight of his cock, his fully hard cock that is standing straight up in all its modest glory, that is red at the head and rather gorgeous in its own right. Sergio makes that deep hum of contentment again and he leans forward again to bury his face against Iker's skin, this time his nose is at the base of Iker's cock and it's a loud, seemingly unending draw of breath and his hands are rubbing Iker's thighs, running up over his ass and then back down and he starts his kisses then, tender, respectful kisses to the light brown hair around his cock and then he's licking all around the root of it, the shudder of pleasure running up Iker's spine so strong that he draws his hips back, embarrassed by the jolting movement of his body, of the drips of salt that Sergio catches quickly on his tongue before they go to waste. When he kisses Iker again it's more ravenous, it's hot and hungry along his stomach again and before Iker can suck in a proper breath his cock is engulfed entirely by Sergio's mouth, the furnace of it the most intimate thing he's ever felt and his knees shake, he sobs and it sounds deep-rooted and painful and relieved. Sergio draws back again and kisses all up and down the length of it, one strong hand steadying him so he can rub the head all over his cheek, over and over and then on the inside of his mouth, rubbing it along his bottom lip and his chin and he is staring up at Iker in deep, submissive worship, the satisfaction in his eyes enough to let Iker know how much he's enjoying this as he takes Iker back into his mouth, working his cock in and out now, moaning as soon as Iker starts to move his hips, as soon as Iker gathers his hair in wavering hands and moves their bodies together, tipping just the head of his cock down into the unbearable tightness of Sergio's throat before pulling out again, not daring down it unless Sergio welcomes it.

Iker's hips snap forward suddenly and Sergio breaks away, breathless and red-cheeked and mouthed and his hand has a vice grip around his base, holding him until Iker's need to climax subsides. He's sighing and moaning again and kissing Iker's stomach before Iker curls down, his hands catching Sergio's and they thread together and he holds him down gently as he spreads himself out on top of him, Sergio's head finding a single pillow and Iker is kissing him powerfully, arching into Sergio's traveling hands and he feels so beautiful with him, he feels young again and overwhelmingly sexual and like he could do this all day, all night, all weekend, all his life. Their kisses slow and they calm though they don't stop a single thing they're doing. Iker kisses across Sergio's cheek and he strokes his hair back with such tenderly adoring fingers, his mouth trails over Sergio's slightly scratchy cheek and he doesn't smell clean but he smells wonderful, he smells like this bed and maybe like sweat and maybe just like a man, like quiet strength and virility and even though the way he parts his legs around Iker's body is more yielding than any woman he's ever been with, he is thoroughly male.

He grips the back of Sergio's knees just because he can and he runs his hands down his calves, tickling over his knees and down over his thighs and he sucks at his throat, so aroused by the noises coming from Sergio's mouth, by the quiet gasps and the purring slips of sound every time Iker's mouth moved to a new spot or sucked long enough at one particular spot. He tucks his head against Sergio's shoulder and hides a shuddering sigh there, his arms coming up around Sergio's body and hugging him hard up against him, just feeling how solid he is, how real and soft and warm he is underneath him, just that simple, just right there. Sergio brings an arm up to pet Iker's head and Iker kisses along the inside of his arm, at that very, very soft skin. He curls his head down and kisses Iker's short hair that has been growing out a little lately, his eyes open lazily, noticing how their lower bodies are still pressed together, still gently rubbing, demanding.

"Do you want me?"

"God." Iker nearly loses it then and he's so glad he has his face hidden because his eyes are glassing over and he kisses Sergio's skin hard, sucking tiny bruises all over his chest, right over his heart. He rocks against Sergio and his cock is like a wild, living thing between them, practically scalding Sergio's lower stomach where it's digging. He grunts and it's a coarse sound and Sergio is already breathless, licking his lips in anticipation. Iker rushes a hot trail of lips and spit up Sergio's neck and when he gets to his mouth it's nothing but softness. They breathe there and Sergio's arms are curled around Iker's face, elbows resting on his shoulders. "Do you need me to... to get you ready?"

Sergio smiles and he kisses him as he bends his legs at the knee, the sound of his bare feet over the cotton sheets loud and soft and heavenly. He spreads his legs even more and he's searching Iker's eyes in the darkness they've created.

"No. I already did it." He reaches for Iker's hand and curls it between his legs, nudging up under his balls and he feels Iker's fingers spread there over his hole that is damp even on the outside. Iker hides his face again, burying it in the pillow as he takes a deep breath and braves two fingers inside of Sergio, spreading them apart and feeling him slicked with lube inside, feeling him burning hot and ready. He opens his mouth around the skin between Sergio's neck and shoulder and sucks as he works his fingers in and out of him, not exactly sure what to do but he's not an idiot, he's not completely sheltered and he'd heard about this, about those hidden parts of a man that are like sparks when touched, that are like lightning up lovely spines and he searches it out, pressing and seeking until he feels Sergio's breath catch in his throat and he presses against that spot even harder, rubbing it with the thick tips of his fingers and Sergio arches up off the bed, a series of cries spilling past his lips and Iker loses all resolve then and just fucks him with his fingers, adding a third finger desperately and Sergio is rocking with him, begging him with the lift and tighten of his body and Iker pulls his fingers out at the last second and Sergio collapses back down on the bed, sweat shining all over him and his eyes and mouth are wet in the shadows and a thick musk is all around him, the first smell of sex and Iker's nostrils are flared with desire, his eyes are narrowed with it and he's holding his cock like it's a sword and he's angling it up against Sergio's ass and he's forgotten politeness, forgotten to ask about condoms and more lube and more fingers and about anything because they're both trembling now, starved for each other and so Iker presses on, using his own strength to work the head of his cock into Sergio's now dripping hole and when the ridge around his head is inside Sergio cups the sides of his face, staring up into his eyes like an untamed animal and Iker grits his teeth and tenses his ass and shoves up inside of him and they arch toward each other and just yell, loud and vibrating around the room and Iker can't seem to get deep enough, can't push his hips against Sergio's body hard enough.

Sergio draws his hips down and he moves Iker's cock around inside of himself until it's angled down and he's gasping already, nails digging into Iker's arms and he tips his head up to catch Iker's mouth and Iker takes that as all the permission he needs and he starts to fuck him, solid and slow and thorough with learned discipline, with the proper intensity that borders on being savage only because this is Sergio, this is the tightest thing he's ever felt, this is more new than anything he's ever experienced, this is soul-ending and gut-wrenching and the immediate pink flush of Sergio's body is enough to make him want to cry (again, Iker, god, why). Sergio moves under him just slightly, just enough to feel Iker as much as he can because the weight of him is delicious and it's bone-crushing and it's making him feel like they're being melted together, like his skin is now Iker's skin is now his skin and Iker is digging up inside of him and he has to fight back his orgasm with every single thrust, he has to try and make this good enough for Iker so they can come together because Iker deserves it, he deserves this much love, he deserves this much pleasure and intimacy and this much of a haven inside of his body.

"Sergio Sergio Sergio Sergio Sergio Sergio..." Iker kisses at Sergio's mouth, sharp little licks of his tongue and pulls of his lips and he can't stop breathing his name into his mouth and his hips become more battering, more alive as Sergio starts to burn under him. This isn't sex and he knows it, this is a word he doesn't know yet, this isn't anything of this universe but it's wholly earthly, it's entirely human and real and with a scent more primal than blood and a rhythm more consistent than a heartbeat and Sergio is all around him, his voice and his breath and his arms and legs and his wet velvet insides and the sucking pull of his body as he lets Iker fuck him (lets him, he's letting him) and he knows that he will never recover from this, he will never come down from this because it's building at the base of his spine, it's building and building and it's like fire and water and a hurricane and like the earth opening up and swallowing him whole and god, Sergio is moaning his name against his ear, his voice is stuttered and helpless and deep and Iker's body tenses so hard he can't move when he comes, his hips stop and he burrows inside of Sergio and leaves himself there in him, drop by drop he loses himself and he's overcome with it, he's digging his face against Sergio's cheek and he didn't even know his hand had disappeared between them and was touching Sergio, it is stroking his cock until he shoots fire onto their skin and his voice permeates the room just as surely as the smell of their bodies, his breath is rushing against Iker's cheek and it's his deliverance, it's his savior and his reason for living and he can't stop touching Sergio, he can't let go of him, he can't help how his cock is ebbing tiredly inside of him now because Sergio's muscles are quaking, tensing erratically around him.

They kiss and they're both past exhaustion, beyond words and when Iker tries to move to lie beside Sergio he's stopped, he's wrapped around with those familiar, beautiful arms and legs and kept right where he is. The rain continues to soak into the earth outside, oblivious to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will be finished summer of 2014. Stay tuned!


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